


Five Times Held

by mneiai



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not Beta Read, Overdads, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8018338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Reinhardt held Jack</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Held

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my rp Tumblr, oldsoldiersdiehard, thought I'd throw it up here since it's a relatively rarepair
> 
> (I'm always accepting "Five Times..." requests for Jack/another character (or two))

One.

The battle had broken Jack’s body and very nearly his will. It was the worst yet, the Omnics unrelenting as they tried to keep the strike team away from the drives that housed their god program. Jack was the fastest, had volunteered as a distraction when they looked moments away from losing any chance they had of getting in, and Gabriel had reluctantly agreed–no one really expected Jack to survive it.

He only knew he had from the pain. He stared up at the smoke-filled sky, surrounded by the bodies of deactivated Omnics, and knew it would be a long, painful hour or two before he lost consciousness. Maybe that was one of the worst parts of the durability SEP gave him, anyone else would have succumbed to shock already.

New noises came to him, not noticeable until they were almost on top of him, and then…then there was Reinhardt, unmistakable. He picked Jack up with a delicacy at odds with his huge form, cradling him to the dinged armor at his chest and carrying him away from his would-be grave. He spoke the entire time, keeping Jack conscious as he fought to decipher the German. Then he stayed with Jack as the medics worked frantically to fix him enough for transport, the others tucked away in a debriefing that Reinhardt claimed he was unnecessary for.

After that, Jack would always find comfort in Reinhardt’s voice, would soften under his friendly hugs.

Two.

The war was over. The war was over and somehow, by some miracle, they had all survived.

Ana was on the phone, Arabic flowing fast as she spoke to family back home. Torb was sleeping, finally, after a night of drinking more than Jack thought his body could hold, and Liao was off doing who knew what (or who). Gabriel was still in work mode, in a conference call with other commanders as they coordinated the clean up efforts.

But the war, for all intents and purposes, was won.

And Jack and Reinhardt were still a little tipsy from the celebration. Reinhardt curled up on the couch and Jack flopped over him, held in place by one of those huge hands. Possibly giggling at some joke in German he now more than half-understood.

There weren’t many places he’d rather be.

Three.

“I fought it,” Jack insisted, needing Reinhardt to know.

“I have no doubt.” Reinhardt’s faith in him was unshaken, making Jack feel all the worse for failing him. “But they do not think I fit in with this new world you are building and I would not have you risk yourself just to keep me here.”

Jack would have, if there weren’t so many others who needed him. If Overwatch itself didn’t rely so heavily on his relationship to the UN.

“You deserve better than this. You helped win the war as much as any of the rest of us.”

Reinhardt’s smile lacked its normal glimmer of good humor, but the hug he pulled Jack into was as comforting as ever.

“I wish you were staying,” he whispered against Reinhardt’s shoulder, the secret fleeing his lips before he could stop it. “I need you here.”

“You do not need me, Jack, no matter what you think. You are strong and you have the support of all of the others. And I will always be nearby, ready to come if you call.”

The promise was one that Jack knew he’d never use, once Reinhardt had settled into retirement he wouldn’t want to give him the false hope of return. But it still meant so much to hear it, to know that no matter what, he could always fall back on the other.

“I’ll miss you. I’ll visit, whenever I can.”

“And I look forward to those times, my friend. You can regale me with stories of your adventures and I will treat you to only the best currywurst.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Four.

Gabriel had been his best friend. His only friend, until he’d gotten to know Ana and then the rest of Overwatch. Losing him was…hard. Worse was knowing he was losing him and being unable to do anything about it.

Every day, there was some new, painful way that Gabriel separated from him. Until Jack was finding out about Blackwatch missions only by reports, until he hadn’t even known Gabriel was in the infirmary until Angela asked him for some sort of authorization. He wasn’t even close enough to Gabriel anymore to know who had replaced him in his regard.

But Jack worked through it, refusing to let the pain in his heart slow him down. Ana noticed, but much like him she had no solutions and therefore didn’t bother offering empty comfort. No one else did or, if they did, said anything.

Until he found himself in Germany and, as was custom, visited Reinhardt. Who knew immediately that something was wrong and very soon wrung the whole story out of Jack. Then he held him, pulling him to him where he sat in an equally huge chair. Jack felt almost like a child, curled in his arms, face buried in one of Reinhardt’s shoulders as he finally let himself cry.

Afterwards, nothing was fixed, but he felt like he would survive. Even without Gabriel.

Five.

‘Dying’ hadn’t been the hardest part of that day in Zurich, deciding to let his friends think he was dead had been. It wasn’t far from the truth, of course, he’d been injured enough that it was a close thing. But he could have made a miraculous reappearance…or left clues. He’d talked himself out of it, though, he didn’t want to disturb the lives they had, didn’t want to bring danger to their doorsteps when he still had so many questions about who had been behind Overwatch’s downfall.

Seeing Reinhardt again, knowing what his ‘death’ must have done to him, was harder still. The other had been standoffish at first, not anything anyone else would have noticed from the boisterous, happy-seeming man, but Jack had. It went on like that for weeks, an awkwardness seeping into every interaction until Jack had taken to avoiding him whenever possible.

Reinhardt, though, was far better at friendship than Jack. He found him, two months into the new Overwatch, curled up in a little-used section of Watchpoint: Gibraltar watching the stars like he used to in the old days. He’d taken Reinhardt up there a few times, enough that it wasn’t a stretch that he’d think to look.

They’d sat beside each other in silence for a long time. Eventually, Jack shifted closer, all the permission Reinhardt needed to wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him in.

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispered, voice always raspy from the damage to his throat.

“I was angry, at first. But now…I am simply relieved to have you back.” Reinhardt held Jack’s cheek in one hand, raising his face up to gaze into his eyes. “I have always held back, always waited, thinking it was better. I cannot, anymore, my friend. If I lost you again, without saying anything….” He hadn’t actually said anything, then, instead he’d pressed their lips together and a light had gone on in Jack’s head.

They spent the next hour on the platform, uncaring of the chill in the night air.


End file.
